


picturing me and you

by happymedium



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happymedium/pseuds/happymedium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to 'only the good things',</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be one more chapter just to complete this little story, although seemingly I'm incapable of writing closed endings so you never know. This is also un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine, sorry!
> 
>  
> 
> Ps. Also the title is from a song called Pervigilo by First Aid Kit, which is the cutest little song ever I recommend you listen to it.

“Hey! It’s you!”

Of all the things she expected to happen to her on a busy Wednesday afternoon at work, running into Howard Stark was not one of them. He’s sitting with some fancy lookin’ men in suits, who don’t look as happy as Howard is to be in a place like this, and she’s pretty sure this is the table that complained about the portion sizes. Or maybe she’s just looking for a reason not to like the guy, either way… 

“Annie, right?” he’s given her one. 

“Angie,” she corrects him, with a tight smile. 

“Right, right. Angie. How’ve you been?”

She really doesn’t have time for this right now, small talk with a could-have-been one night stand Howard Stark, who’s standing a little too close for comfort and looking at her as if he didn’t abandon her on his couch for near enough two hours, or forget her name mere moments ago. Her boss is standing at the other end of the restaurant looking over the lunch time rush like some kind of hawk ready to strike, there’s about three tables in her area that need clearing, and the boys from the kitchen are yelling at her that there’s an order of food waiting on the gantry still.

“Uh fine I guess, thanks. Listen, I’m a little bit rushed off my feet. Always busy this time’a day, you know? Nice to see ya though,”

She grabs the stack of plates from his table and practically sprints away from his table.

One of the cook’s recognises him straight away, and then out of no where she’s got a throng of waitresses swarming around her with non-stop questions (‘Isn’t that the guy from the cocktail bar?’ ‘Are you dating now?’ ‘Howard Stark, Angie! What are you doing still working here?’)

And really, she doesn’t know what’s worse: having to awkwardly deflect their questions, or go back out there where he’s probably waiting to chat some more. In all honesty she’d rather the ground swallow her up whole. 

Angie takes a deep, steadying breath and straightens out her blouse before heading back onto the floor. Stark is no-where to be seen, but he’s left a pretty decent tip behind, but Angie’s not so proud that she won’t accept a cut of it.

It’s the least he can do for her afterall.

 

** ** **

 

“Hey, guess who I bumped into today,”

Peggy is sitting on the sofa with a cushion on her lap and her nose in the New York Times when Howard comes in. He throws his keys in the dish by the door and sheds his coat before flopping down next to her on the couch,

“Who?” Peggy mumbles. Not that she’s particularly interested, but she’s lived with Howard long enough to know where ignoring him gets her,

“That Angie girl, you know the one from a couple’a weeks back?”

Now that peaks her interest. Peggy looks up from the paper with a raised eyebrow, 

“Where did that happen?”

“That little diner, opposite that massage place downtown,”

“Oh right, with the door and the windows?” she drawls, and Howard frowns, 

“No need in the sarcasm, pal. I forget the name of it. Maybe we could go back tomorrow, see if I can get a second chance at our date,”

“I’d hardly call the last time a date, Howard,”

“Well, I’ll see if I can get myself a proper date then,” he replies smugly, before grabbing the TV remote. 

Peggy rolls her eyes and goes back to focussing on her newspaper. Not that she can anymore, casting her mind back to that night a couple of weeks ago when she first met Angie, and back to that moment in the car when Angie had kissed her cheek then fled without a word.

If she’s being completely truthful, the bubbly young woman has been on her mind for the past four weeks. Which is of course completely ridiculous, because they only happened to spend around four hours within each others company in the first place. What’s even more absurd though, is the horrible pangs of jealousy in her chest at the idea of Howard seeing her again.

As if he would get any further than he did the last time, anyway. As Peggy recalls it, Angie didn’t seem to be interested in him, or men in general. Not that she’d told Howard, of course. It wasn’t her place, so she’d kept that little bit of knowledge to herself. Still,

“As persuasive as you can be Howard, somehow I don’t think she’ll be as up for a second date as you are,”

Howard laughs, “I don’t know, Peg. No harm in trying right?”

Peggy hums, and grins to herself knowingly, “We’ll see.”

 

** ** **

 

Thursday’s are normally quiet. Well, it’s not exactly quiet, but the lunch rush has been and gone, and things are a little bit more manageable just after three, when parents are heading to pick their kids up from school and the office workers are heading back for the last stint of their shifts. It’s a bit of a breather at least, before it’ll pick up again in the evening after five. Luckily she’ll be gone by that time though, thank god.

Angie’s sitting in the break room, putting her feet up for five minutes before she has to go back and finish the last hour or so of her shift when Rita, one of her co-workers, pokes her head through the door with a smile so wide that Angie can’t help but smiling back,

“What’s got you so happy?” she asks, 

“Angie, you gotta get out here. You got a visitor,” 

Confused, Angie gets up and straightens her apron. Angie hasn’t got any friends that’d illicit a reaction like that from anyone, and Rita’s downright buzzing with excitement. A group of the other girls are stood gossiping at the counter but immediately zip their traps when Angie rounds the corner, all of them smiling at her suspiciously. 

For a moment she think’s its going to be some big fancy director, that one who she auditioned for about a week ago; the one who’d actually let her finish her monologue, and thanked her for coming in with that real charming smile. How’d he find out where she works? Was the audition so good that he had to come offer her the part in person?

The excitement’s getting all too much for her, heart pounding in her chest, eyes shining with anticipation, Broadway is finally calling and she’s just one step away from her dream. The moment is gone as quickly as it came- shattered, almost- when she finally comes face to face with her visitor and finds that it’s none other than Howard friggin’ Stark. Again. Holding a bouquet of roses in one hand.

The disappointment on her face must be obvious because Howard is starting to look a bit embarrassed, especially since half the wait staff and most of the customers are now staring at them. Nonetheless, Howard clears his throat, holding up the roses, 

“An apology,” he announces, “For, y’know… before,”

Angie says nothing, just folding her arms over herself awkwardly. Thankfully, Rita has scattered the group of girls watching them but still, she feels like the biggest spectacle on the planet.

“I thought that maybe I could make it up to you, maybe we could go for dinner one night?” Howard asks confidently,

“Oh gee,” Angie says awkwardly, “I don’t think so,”

“It’s my way of saying sorry, ” He says, “Let me buy you an expensive meal and then if you don’t want to see me again, we’ll leave it at that,”

“Listen Howard, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I really don’t wanna get your hopes up.”

“Come on, Ange-” he starts, reaching out to stroke her shoulder. She jerks it away before he can though, and levels him with a stern glare;

“I said no,” she says firmly. 

Howard looks somewhat affronted, she gets the impression he doesn’t get rejected often, but then he nods in acceptance and turns to leave, placing the flowers on the counter sadly, and she can just hear the girls in the background sighing their sympathies. Angie clears her throat, only noticing how quiet the diner had gone as the conversations suddenly begin to get louder.

Rita, god bless her soul, comes up from behind her and tentatively touches her shoulder, mumbling something about how the flowers could use some water.

Angie just nods and says she’ll take care of them. Any excuse to leave the front of the diner. 

The rest of her shift goes by without any more excitement, lucky. And she even manages to bag an early finish; Lucy, one of the other waitresses decided to take pity on her ‘cos of the whole Howard debacle. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, hon. Men are jerks. Just takes dating a few of the bad ones before you find the one, don’t worry,” she’d winked. All Angie could do was agree.

Back in the break room, when she’s gathering her things, Rita- the bearer of bad news- pops her head around the door again, “Oh good, Angie, I thought you’d left. You got another visitor, ‘aint you little miss popular today,”

Angie freezes, “Who is it?”

Rita shrugs, not as excited as she was by Angie’s last visitor,

“Didn’t catch a name, she’s got an accent though.”

 

** ** **

Peggy is trying her best to ignore the stares of the waitresses’ at the end of the counter where she’s standing. Honestly though there’s no reason why they would be staring, unless they don’t get many new customers in or they’ve never heard an English accent before. Nevertheless, she holds her head high still and waits patiently for Angie to appear.

She doesn’t know whether to feel bad for Howard or not, perhaps it is in bad taste to ask somebody out after they’ve rejected your best friends advances. She doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought for much longer however, because as soon as she raises her mug of coffee to her lips Angie is rounding the corner with a suspicious look on her face that melts into one of confusion as soon as they lock eyes. It’s fair to say though she doesn’t look disappointed,

“Engl- Peggy, hey. What’re you doin’ here?” Angie asks her, glancing around as if she’s expecting Howard to appear from behind her or something similar to that. Peggy just chuckles and places the mug back on her saucer, 

“A little bird told me that you worked here,”

Angie just about rolls her eyeballs right out of her head, Peggy notices, then she leans against the counter with her jacket hanging over her arm, “Did that little bird have a fancy tie and moustache, by any chance?”

Peggy shrugs nonchalantly, taking another sip of her coffee,

“Howard didn’t send me, if that’s you’re concerned about. I came because I wanted to see you, actually,” Angie’s cheeks redden as she looks around cautiously, like she’s making sure no-ones listening to their conversation. Taking her lead from Angie, Peggy lowers her voice, “I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner sometime.”

Angie hesitates, and the nerves that Peggy had managed to keep at bay al this time slowly begin to set in. Peg is just about to open her mouth and apologise for entertaining the idea, especially in her place of work when Angie whispers,

“You hardly know me,” 

“I was hoping dinner could fix that,” 

“When would we go?”

“Entirely up to you,”

“It’s my day off tomorrow,” Angie muses,

“We could go for lunch?” suggests Peggy, the whole ‘play it cool’ approach had apparently gone flying out of the window. The waitress pauses, and Peggy’s almost certain she’s going to burst with the suspense, but then, 

“Alright then, it’s a date! … Right?” 

Relieved, Peggy breaths out a laugh and nods eagerly, “And perhaps in the meantime, I could walk you home?”

Angie slips her jacket on and smiles widely at her,

“English, I was worried you’d never ask,”


	2. Chapter 2

“Someone’s awfully chipper,” she hears Howard comment as she walks through the door.  
Howard doesn’t bother looking up from his laptop, as he sits at the breakfast bar with a collection of paperwork fanned out around him.

There had been a spring in her step ever since she’d left Angie on the stoop in front of her building. They’d walked slowly in the late afternoon haze, Peggy listening closely as Angie relayed her brush with Howard earlier in the day. And perhaps she had felt somewhat guilty for the part she’d played. 

All she’d wanted was to knock him down a peg, or two. Really, she should have just told him to leave the poor girl alone, little did she know that Howard’s dinner invitation was going to be as grand a gesture. 

“Not still moping, are you?” Peggy replies, eye brow aloft as she steps into the kitchen, and leans her arms on the work top just in front of him, “Petulance isn’t a good look I’m afraid, Howard,”

He looks at her confusedly for a second, before the realisation washes over him and his expression lightens

“Wait, because of the girl? Psh, water off a duck’s back, Peg. Can’t dwell on that too long,” he says with a dismissive flick of his hand and a tight grin; as if he hadn’t spent most of the afternoon cooped up in the apartment, sulking like a spoilt child in the comfort of his bedroom after being so publicly rejected by Angie that afternoon.

In fact for a brief moment earlier on in the day, Peggy had almost felt sorry for him; but after recalling the list of female friends she’d lost contact with down to Howard’s special knack of sleeping with women and never ringing them again.. the moment had quickly passed.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Is Edwin still here?”

“In the laundry room. Why?”

“I just have a quick favour to ask…”

  
* * *  


She has nothing to wear.

At all. That is a fact.

Not that she’s surprised. It’s not as if she ever gets a chance to go shopping, what with working full time and the fact after she’s paid the bills and bought, y’know, necessities to live she’s pretty much broke.

The only thing that’s left to wear is her god-awful uniform from the diner that looks like it was last updated in back in the 40’s, and hope that Peggy is polite enough to not mention it. The brit’s are notoriously polite, right?

She barely has time to register the knock on her door before her doors swinging open and there stands Evelyn- her roommate- gaping at her dubiously, 

“Angie! Quit pacing would ya? I swear you’re gonna wear holes in the floor boards,”

“You’re always sayin’ we need to meet the neighbours,” 

“Somehow I don’t think that cranky old bat beneath us will appreciate that,” Evelyn scoffs, she looks around the room cautiously; Angie’s clothes are taking up the majority of her bed, it’s as though a bombs gone off, “What’s all this?”

Angie shrugs, and attempts nonchalance as she starts to hang the clothes back on their hanger,  
“I’ve got a lunch date tomorrow, just tryna decide what to wear,”

Evelyn’s head whips up at that admission, and she gasps so dramatically that Angie just about leaps out of her skin, 

“Hold up. You met someone? Oh! is it that English chick?” 

Evelyn is the only person she’s told about Peggy.. and Howard.. and the lame kiss on the cheek that turned Angie into a giddy school girl that night all those weeks ago. Not like she had meant to, though. It had slipped out as she was dramatically recapping the tale of the billionaire playboy who’d picked her up in a club, taken her back to his luxury Manhattan apartment and left her alone with his gorgeous english room mate who ‘has the most beautiful brown eyes, and this big kind smile that just kinda makes your knees week y’know? and her legs.’

Angie had quickly stopped herself, but the cat was pretty much out of the bag by that point. Evelyn had just shrugged and urged her story on, as if it was no big deal. (If only it could always be that easy, Angie’d thought.)

“The latter,” Evelyn practically squeals and Angie groans, “Can we not make this into a big deal, please? And instead focus on helping me decide what to wear,”

“They’re just gonna end up on the bedroom floor anyway, I’d pick something that’s easy to rip off,” she replies with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrow. Angie’s cheeks burn red and she has to bury her head in the closet to hide how freakin’ embarrassing and cliche this whole situation is.

Evelyn, who’s just outright laughing at her by this point, begins to sieve through the pile of clothes and like some kind of miracle worker, somehow manages to assemble an outfit Angie never even knew she had. 

“As a thank you, you’re letting me borrow that shirt when you’re done,” she says with a flick of her hand, then walks out of the room like she hasn’t just saved her from a near melt down.

  
* * *  


Angie is nervous.

See, going on dates with boys is easy; growing up with a mother who has a ridiculous amount of friends- all with single sons the same age as her-, it was just about bred into her. 

This is a whole new territory, though. She actually likes this woman for a start, and that thought alone frightens her a whole lot. Other fears include embarrassing herself, or worse, embarrassing Peggy.

So, yes, if she is being completely honest… Angie’s absolutely terrified. At least she looks good. 

Glancing at the watch around her wrist, her eyes bulge from their sockets at the time. It’s 1:45, and she’s supposed to meet Peggy at two, and there’s no way she’ll get there unless she can sprout a pair of wings in the next ten seconds.

Snatching her bag from the hook she hot foots it out of the door as quickly as she can, like she’s 12 years old being chased up the street by her brothers. She skids down the hall like she’s , careening around the corner and practically bouncing off the walls; she yanks the door open dramatically and almost barrels into Peggy, who’s just standing there looking at her as confusedly as Angie feels. 

She nearly doesn’t register the English guy- Terribly Posh- stood besides a freaking Bentley?! holding the car door open for them. The look of confusion on Peggy’s face has washed away and is replaced by a smile of relief,

“I was rather hoping you were running late, otherwise this would have been somewhat embarrassing,”

  
* * *  


Terribly posh -who’s name she learns is Mr. Jarvis,- drives them to a place in Lower Manhattan which, from the outside, doesn’t look like anything she’d imagined.

It’s entrance is tiny, and barely looks like it belongs to another. It’s just a single door in between an art gallery one side and a thrift store on the other, with a plaque above the doorway with the restaurants name. Not one she’s ever heard of before.

Then Peggy leads her up narrow stairwell, and the space becomes more open and, who’d have thought it, she’s in some real fancy restaurant. It’s very dimly lit, a couple of wall lights warming the atmosphere of the room. It’s got these tall brick walls and lacquered wooden floors, and an pretty tight arrangement of tables, all two-seater, all with a small tea-light candle in the centre. 

It’s pretty freaking romantic. 

A waitress greets them immediately and guides them to their table, offering them both a menu whilst rattling off their afternoon special. 

Peggy tells her she’s heard great reviews, and ‘The only way you can get a reservation is if you know somebody who’s been here before,’

Even just glancing at the price of a bowl of soup gives her an idea of the kind of company Peggy keeps.

Holy hell.

  
* * *  


Dinner is going…

Well. Truthfully, it could be going a little better.

 

Her date is being strangely quiet, nursing her drink as if it’s her last, and it’s making Peggy feel awfully self-conscious. In fact, the only conversation between them is the one that’s happening on the table beside them between an old married couple who are bickering over their soup.

Maybe this place wasn’t one of her better ideas.

It offered a little bit of anonymity- what with it being out of the way of the diner and Angie’s neighbourhood, hidden in between two battered old buildings. Even when Peggy was trying to get a scope of the place, she’d had a hard time finding.

Plus she’d heard from Jarvis that it served the most wonderful Bergamot parfait he’d ever tasted and… 

It definitely wasn’t one of her better ideas.

Was she trying too hard, perhaps? There was plenty of other places they could have gone to, all a little less fancy. She sneaks a look at Angie who’s got a pained look on her face as her mouth awkwardly at every thing on the menu, which is just one sheet on some arty wooden clip-board.

Oh god, how embarrassed Peggy feels. Even the waitress look’s embarrassed for her, when they recite their orders and then dissolve into small talk once more. All ‘do you enjoy your job?’ and ‘I bet you miss England right?’ which is all very well and good, but…

Suddenly her glass of wine doesn’t seem full enough at all.

  
* * *  


Peggy offers to top up her wine and it’s does the trick to take the edge off.

It must loosen Peggy up as well, as the conversation begins to flow a little more smoothly, rather than the stagnant small-talk earlier. Angie even makes an off-handed comment about the decor and Peggy says something so unexpected Angie nearly chokes on her drink.

And then the food arrives…

All she can do is look at her meal- a bed of limp lettuce with the tiniest sliver of fish- then up at Peggy incredulously. “I’m sorry…” she asks, shaking her head, “but… this cost’s $34?”

Angie’s trying her hardest to stifle her laughter, but to no avail. So there they are. 

Both doubled over, both in tears of laughter in their meals, in the middle of the swankiest restaurant. The waitress doesn’t even bother to check on them, and the dirty looks they’re receiving from the old couple next to them just makes Angie laugh more.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy finally says, in between hiccups of laughter, “I was hoping this afternoon would have gone a little bit better than… this,”

Angie tilts her head. Fingers inching across the table and taking Peggy’s hand in her own with a smirk,

“Hon, you coulda taken me to Walmart and I would have still had a good time. Cos I’d be with you,” she shrugs,

“Walmart?” Peggy asks, raising an eyebrow.

Angie laughs, suddenly bashful. 

“What do you say we get out of here? I know this great little place that does the best giant pretzels in New York.”

Peggy’s eyes light up, and she throws down some bills as Angie takes her by the hand and pulls her through the restaurant and down the stairs until they’re on the sidewalk, holding each other a little too tightly as they laugh and catch their breath. 

“Now, where are these pretzels?”

  
* * *  


Three hours and a whole lotta’ blocks later, they’ve exhausted every conversation topic they can think of and walked pretty much the longest way back with half eaten giant pretzels, when Angie realises they’re stood outside of Peggy’s building, and the English woman is looking at her with a coy smile that’s making Angie undoubtedly weak in the knees.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asks, looking almost bashful at the use of that corny line.

Angie nods eagerly, and rattles something off about being serious that she’s never been taken back to somebodies place before, and “it’s just an unfortunate coincidence that this happens to be the second time I’ve been brought back to this place. Not that it’s unfortunate that I met you, I mean that was pretty fortunate, and I ‘ain’t that lucky if I’m honest-“

Peggy takes a step closer until they’re barely an eyelash apart, and Angie’s breath catches in her throat. “Darling,” Peggy purrs, “Has anybody ever told you you talk too much?”

The space between them vanishes completely as Peggy kisses her; softly but certainly. Her hands find Peggy’s waist and she leans back against the rough wall of the building. It’s heavy breathing and unravelling; it’s dizzying, perfect even. The late afternoon sun is disappearing behind rolling clouds, thick and dark, but the world is positively glowing, and Angie’s in a whole different dimension.

Her eyes flutter open as they break apart, and Peggy’s looking at her hungrily, her eyes almost black. Taking her by the hand, peeling her fingers from her hip, Peggy kisses her once more with gusto, before pulling away reluctantly and leading her into the lobby, towards the elevator. 

This is the second time she’s ridden up this elevator, and the second time she’s been against the wall with a hand up her shirt, but the first time she’s felt so happy about it.

**End.**

 

 

**A/N:** So I'm so sorry it took me a month to update, mainly because of being at work non-stop and the whole lack of motivation thing. 

I just wanted to get this story completed but because of the reasons above, the end is a little bit weak as well, so for that I apologize.

Thanks for reading :)


End file.
